


Celestial Passengers

by syrupfactory



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alien Planet, Attempt at Humor, Far Future, Feel-good, Fluff, Future Fic, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Original Character(s), Outer Space, Post-Canon, Romance, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23216350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupfactory/pseuds/syrupfactory
Summary: Passengersadaptation for the Good Omens RomCom EventIn the distant future on the planet Homestead II, Aziraphale and Crowley recall the journey that brought the first settlers there. The starship Avalon transported five thousand hibernating passengers from Earth to this new world, and their safe arrival was declared miraculous … which sparked a curious rumor that angels must have accompanied and protected them. Aziraphale is happy to keep that legend alive as long as there are people who want to believe. His husband is mostly just amused.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 98
Collections: Good Omens Rom Com Event





	Celestial Passengers

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be reblogged on tumblr [here](https://meowdejavu.tumblr.com/post/613038378444800000/celestial-passengers-aziraphalecrowley-4k)!

**_Homestead II — Present Day_ **

Aziraphale is reshelving a book in his personal collection when he hears the pitter-patter of little feet hurrying up the path outside. His husband is off assisting with the gardens, so it’s only him at home now. 

He’s left the door propped open in the nice weather, so the children are promptly inside without waiting for an invitation.

"Professor Fell!” comes the first voice. “Professor Fell!” 

He turns to find Kari, a young girl who attends his history classes—a bright, curious student. She has two younger friends in tow, now, and is carrying a mouse-cat; a tiny feline-esque species that quickly warmed to human presence on this planet when it identified them as a reliable source of snacks and warmth. Aziraphale respects that.

“Good afternoon,” Aziraphale responds, descending the steps into his living area to greet them. “What’s so urgent, then?”

“Scholar,” Kari says. “They don’t believe me. They don’t believe about the _angels_. The ones who helped the first of us get here. Will you tell them it’s true?”

Aziraphale smiles. The other children with her are young enough that they won’t have heard that lesson unless their parents tell it—and not all parents choose to, of course. 

He invites them all to sit and they take their places on the plush seats in the living area—the windows of the cottage are open, too, and letting in a warm, pleasant breeze that is quite Earth-like. When he asks their names, the other two answer with Robin and Astra. They look skeptical, but curious. Kari looks impatient. 

“Tell me,” Aziraphale says, looking at the younger two. “What is it you find difficult to believe?”

“Angels aren’t _real_ —” Robin starts. 

“She tells all sorts of odd stories!” Astra shouts. 

“See, they won’t listen to me,” Kari adds, exasperated. “You have to tell them.”

“Well, I can certainly tell you what I know to be true. But I can’t tell them what to believe. You know that, don’t you, Kari?”

She nods. 

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? All the way back on Earth, when the people there built the Avalon ship that would carry the first settlers to this planet. It must have taken great courage to travel so far away from home, don’t you think?”

Three little heads are nodding. 

“They were the bravest people on the _whole_ planet,” Robin responds with confidence. 

///

**_Earth — 350 years earlier_**

“Idiots,” Crowley was muttering. “Fucking idiots. _Absolute_ madness.”

“What’s that, dear?” Aziraphale asked, barely looking up from his news screen. 

“The space voyage! The blasted colony ship! Have you seen these plans?! They’re all going to be in _hibernation pods_ for the entire journey!”

“What?” Aziraphale asked, turning to face him. “For a full century?”

“YES! And then some!”

Crowley flung his finger to send the article over to Aziraphale’s feed. Taking a moment to read, he increasingly understood Crowley’s horror. 

“The ship—oh, good lord. It’s going to be piloted by a computer program? What about when something malfunctions, or there’s an unexpected—”

“Idiots! Those idiots are all going to _die_!”

“Now, my dear, don’t assume the worst for them. They’ve always been explorers. They’ve always been resilient.”

Crowley stopped in his stracks and raised his eyebrows. “They’re not taking any books with them. Only _electronic_ texts.”

Aziraphale stared at him for long enough to be sure it wasn’t a joke. “Idiots.”

“As I was saying.”

“They’re all going to die out there.”

“I know.”

“Unless?” Aziraphale asked, giving his husband a skeptical glance. 

He expected him to be shocked, to protest. But instead, Crowley just nodded and refilled his wine glass.

“Yep,” he said, swirling the wine and taking a long sip. “Unless we go with them, they’re doomed.”

///

**_Present Day_**

“There were those on Earth who long believed in angels, you see,” Aziraphale is explaining. “Beings who watched over them and helped them get through their greatest challenges.”

“But,” Astra says, looking skeptical. “Those were all just old stories. That they used to tell before they had … real science.”

“Hush!” Kari hisses, spooking her mouse-cat, which squirms out of her arms and scampers out the open door. 

Aziraphale looks out to see Crowley coming up the path now, on his way home for the evening with a couple sacks of fresh harvest in hand. Aziraphale can’t help but swell with pride at the sight. 

“Kari,” he scolds kindly, returning his attention to the children. “We don’t silence friends who are willing to learn.”

“Yes, scholar. But. Tell them the rest!”

“The great thing about science,” Aziraphale goes on, “is that it’s dynamic, not static. People are always improving on what they know, on what they can do, and what they understand. When the Avalon was built, it was the first of its kind. And what is most often true about our first attempt?”

“It’s a lesson,” Kari answers eagerly. “It shows us what we’re getting wrong so we can fix it the next time.”

“Exactly right,” Aziraphale says. “Pardon me for a moment.” 

He stands to greet his husband, who has just come inside and set down his bags, pulling him into a happy embrace. 

“Would our guests like some refreshments?” Crowley asks, producing a bright pink alien fruit that Aziraphale keeps forgetting the name of. 

That gets enthusiastic yesses from the children, so Crowley goes up the steps to the kitchen to make some juice, while Aziraphale takes his seat again. 

“Now,” he says. “Back where we left off. The first attempt at any great challenge is that we’re likely to fail. And bear in mind that the Avalon was traveling with no human pilots—only a navigation system following a preset course. So, while the ship itself was indeed a tremendous accomplishment, its successful journey is an even more extraordinary feat.”

“Not extraordinary if you believe in fate,” Kari says confidently. “And guardian angels.”

Astra scoffs. Robin looks thoughtful. 

“Perhaps not,” Aziraphale allows, “but we mustn’t discount how remarkable it is that your— _our_ ancestors arrived here safely. No matter what we believe.”

Crowley reappears, then, carrying a tray of drinks, which Aziraphale helps him hand out. 

“How delicious this looks! What should we all say to Anthony?”

“Thank you; thank you, Mr. Crowley!” comes the quick chorus of responses. 

Crowley takes his place beside Aziraphale, giving him a knowing glance. It’s not the first time Aziraphale has conducted an impromptu lesson in their den—and Crowley knows just how fond he is of keeping the angel “legend” alive. 

“So,” Robin says in between gulps of juice, “if there _were_ guardian angels on the ship, how did they _get_ there?”

“Perhaps they saw where the people were going and decided to go along,” Crowley answers. “To protect them.”

///

**_Earth — Before the Journey_**

With a few miracles, the Avalon’s passenger log had two new additions—and its interior had a few upgrades. There would be a stunning library with an expansive collection of assorted classic and contemporary literature, plus a comprehensive history section and then some. Aziraphale was very proud. And Crowley saw to it that the ship would have a lush garden area where Earth plants would be thriving when the passengers awakened. They’d need that familiar fresh air before stepping onto a new world. 

They stopped short of miracling the ship to fly at impossible speeds, since that would only bewilder everyone.

“I guess this is it, then,” Crowley said on the day they stood beside the kitchen window of their peaceful South Downs cottage for the last time. “We’re really going ... to space.”

“Indeed. As you once proposed.”

“That was a very different thing. And a very different time. You were right to decline, back then.”

Aziraphale hummed. “Just as you were right to agree, this time.”

They moved to kiss each other at the same time, pulling each other into a snug embrace. 

**~**

They waited until the humans were safely in their hibernation pods to pop onto the ship, which was constructed in Earth’s orbit and would soon begin its journey through the cosmos. 

“Oh my,” Aziraphale remarked as they first set foot in the main hallway. “The aesthetics truly do not disappoint.”

The Avalon’s interior was a work of art, both elegant and cozy, with gleaming metals contrasting the neutral walls. 

Crowley nodded his own approval. “Nice ride.”

They settled into one of the many vacant residence rooms and then attended to their first order of business: checking in on the other passengers. All five thousand of them were safe and sound in their pods, according to the ship computers. Crowley was satisfied with that, but Aziraphale made it a point to focus his attention on the travelers, looking in on each level and whispering blessings of safety and comfort. Fools, the lot of them, but human optimism was a flame he would never dream of snuffing out. 

**~**

When the ship began to sail, Aziraphale and Crowley lay in the garden on the top floor, watching the stars pass by through the domed ceiling. 

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale remarked. 

“Mmhm.”

He felt Crowley squeeze his hand, then, and looked over to find his husband’s yellow eyes on him instead of the sight above.

“You alright?” 

Crowley nodded. “This might be the craziest thing we’ve ever done, but I’m glad we’re here.”

///

**_Present Day_ **

“The ship was _really_ strong, though,” Astra is pointing out. “They designed it to protect the people inside.”

“But it was only the first one,” Robin says softly. “They were only guessing at how to make it safe.”

“It could have gone off course or _exploded_ ,” Kari chimes in. “But it didn’t!” 

“You’re all correct,” Aziraphale says with a smile. “The Avalon was a very special ship, designed to be stronger and better than any that came before. It was also the very first of its kind, and it wasn’t possible to predict every single problem it might encounter during its long voyage.”

“And if it hadn’t made it here, _none_ of us would exist,” Kari adds. 

Aziraphale nods. “Indeed, the safe journey is widely considered miraculous. And some people wonder if perhaps our traveling ancestors had someone—or something—watching over them.” 

“When they woke up—!” Kari starts before Aziraphale raises a hand. 

“Let’s not skip to the end just yet,” Aziraphale says with a wink. 

“What were they doing the whole time?” Robin asks softly, puzzled. “The angels, I mean? If they were _awake_ … weren’t they bored?”

“Surely not!” Kari responds, whirling around. “They probably talked to each other … about the people ... and, well, whatever angels talk about. And they must have been very wise, wiser than any of us could ever be. Right, scholar?”

“Oh, _very_ wise, indeed,” Aziraphale answers, fully ignoring that his husband is fighting a smirk. 

///

**_The Avalon — Year 30 of 120_ **

Aziraphale had completely lost track of how long they’d been in bed, sighing with content as he idly played with his husband’s hair. 

It didn’t matter, of course, since they had no schedule to keep—Crowley could doze on Aziraphale’s chest as long as he liked, there in the peaceful stillness of their bedroom, which had grown to feel like home. 

Well, mostly peaceful. There was an odd sound in the distance, Aziraphale realized, though it was awfully faint. 

Curious, but not wanting to disturb his husband, he briefly increased his hearing capacity and focussed on the sound… It was a steady beeping. Like an _alarm_. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, more loudly than he intended. 

“What?!” came the startled response, as he sat up to face Aziraphale, eyes wide. 

“Sorry, darling, sorry,” Aziraphale said, grasping his hands and suppressing a laugh. “I didn’t mean to shout. But listen; I think there’s something wrong—I think some sort of alarm is—” 

“Ah, fuck,” Crowley grumbled, rubbing his eyes, thoroughly perturbed at having his happy nap interrupted. 

The two of them were promptly up and dressed—miracling their clothes on after abandoning them sometime— _hours? days?_ —before. Together, they popped down to the engineering deck to investigate. 

Sure enough, several screens there showed an error message, and a flashing red light overhead matched the rhythm of the beeps.

“Who is this _for_?” Crowley scoffed. “Who would be alerted by this if we weren’t here?”  
  
Aziraphale just hummed, having no good answer for that, and moved over to read the error message while Crowley mumbled something about “idiots” behind him. 

“Oh, my. Do come have a look at this; it seems there’s been an impact incident.”

“Well, that figures,” Crowley said, stepping up beside him to peer at the screens. 

He used the controls to cycle through a few more data screens, which Aziraphale struggled to make sense of. 

“Ah, that’s just the cat’s piss,” Crowley muttered. “That impact caused a single pod to malfunction.”

“Good lord, which one?”

“Looks like it’s Pod 1498, a James Preston. We’d … better go pay him a visit.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Let’s!”

They had only just made it to the fountain in the main corridor when they realized they were not alone. Someone was standing on the other side. 

“Hello?!” he was shouting in an anguished sort of tone.

Aziraphale and Crowley both froze at once, but he’d already spotted them. 

“Oh, thank God,” he said, stepping into view. “I thought I was the only one—do you guys know what’s going on?”

Aziraphale was prepared to assuage his concerns, but before he could speak, Crowley had frozen James in place. Aziraphale shot him a look, and Crowley just shrugged. 

“I thought that would be easiest.”

Aziraphale sighed, moving over to James and touching his elbow. “Alright, let’s get you back in place.” 

He popped the three of them over to James’s pod, where they eased him back inside and re-induced his coma. Aziraphale also made sure to remove James’s memories of the incident—and of having seen him and Crowley—replacing the experience with the loveliest dreams James could possibly imagine. 

With his pod resituated and the damage miracled away, all passengers were once again safe. 

“I guess we should, erm, start paying more attention,” Aziraphale said, sheepish. 

“Eh,” Crowley said dismissively, letting his arms encircle Aziraphale’s waist from behind. “Everything worked out fine. What say we go rustle up some lunch, hmm?”

That, of course, was an easy sell. 

While they ate at the ship’s nicest restaurant, served by the familiar robot waiters, Aziraphale thought about the lone passenger who woke up. The one who would have been completely isolated if they weren’t there. Doomed to live out his full life and die in space rather than reaching his destination. But now, he’d be fine. They had made the right choice. 

In the future, on a new planet, James Preston would marry a fellow passenger he had not yet met. And in the even more distant future, his very curious descendant would be sitting in Aziraphale’s living room, drinking fresh juice. 

///

**_Present Day_**

“It’s not that I don’t believe it’s possible,” Robin is saying to Kari, “it just seems as though it’s _equally_ possible not to be true?”

Kari’s pleading gaze snaps back to Aziraphale.

“Scholar!” she whines, squirming. “May we tell them about the miracles _now_?”

Aziraphale nods, chuckling a bit at her eagerness. “Very well. Tell them.”

Kari stands and turns to face her two companions. “When the ship arrived here, in orbit, and everyone woke up?! They found a _record_ of everything that had happened during the journey. EVERY SINGLE problem that happened on the ship was fixed perfectly a short time later—even things the ship had no programming for!” 

Aziraphale glances at Crowley and finds him looking at his lap with vague amusement. They didn’t discover until _after_ the trip that miracling away each issue didn’t erase the logs. It was something Crowley grumbled about, since he regretted not thinking of it, but Aziraphale embraced it as an intriguing fact in his courses. 

“Perhaps there was a crew the passengers never knew of?” Astra suggests. “So that they wouldn’t mourn them?”

Kari groans in frustration. “Uhh, no! The problems happened over a whole century. And _dead bodies_ would be kind of obvious? ”

“How could they have fixed them so quickly?” Robin pipes up. “People don’t work that fast.”

“I guess you have another one on your side,” Astra remarks to Kari. 

“I’m _not_ on a side!” Robin protests.

Kari is about to respond when one of her mothers appears in the doorway, silhouetted against the colorful evening sky, and calls to her, saying she’s late for supper. The three children are quickly wrangled, and Aziraphale and Crowley bid their farewells. 

In the peace that follows, Aziraphale pulls Crowley into his arms and kisses him properly, as he’s been wanting to do since he arrived. With the glow of the sunset warming his features and adding a subtle shimmer to his auburn curls, Crowley is as gorgeous as a dream. 

“How are you, my darling?” Aziraphale asks.

“Perfectly well. Would you like supper?”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” Aziraphale says, pulling him into another kiss. “Thank you.”

///

**_The Avalon — Later Years_ **

Following the incident with the pod malfunction, Aziraphale made it a point to do regular check-ins on all the passengers, passing down the rows and blessing each one with good health and blissful dreams. For his part, Crowley took to routinely visiting the control rooms, to be sure no more alarm bells were sounding. 

There were, of course, the occasional incidents, insofar as “incidents” means “things that would have probably killed everyone on board if they hadn’t tagged along,” but nothing a snap of the fingers couldn’t fix.

That is, except for one pesky issue: Homesickness. 

With just over a century of quiet travel behind them, and many happy memories on the ship, there were times when Aziraphale grew restless. He missed the feeling of stepping outside and belatedly realizing he needed an umbrella or a scarf. He missed the sounds of London traffic and the obnoxious seagulls that flew over their cottage. He missed going out for a night on the town, bumping into all sorts of interesting people, making new friends, and proudly introducing Crowley as his husband.

“It’s not that I regret leaving,” Aziraphale confided in Crowley one evening—he’d been moping around the ship’s library before Crowley found him. “It’s just…”

“You miss Earth?”

“I do, but more than that … I think I miss the unpredictable qualities of life. And, honestly, I miss _people_. Being around them, getting to know them. It’s been so long since there weren’t all sorts of strange, wonderful, maddening people around.”

Crowley looked thoughtful. “Do you know that there are personal profiles for all the passengers on this ship?”

“Profiles? What do you mean?”

“I found it in the system—there are detailed accounts for each person about their lives, their hobbies, their hopes and aspirations or whatever,” he went on, _et cetera_ -ing with his hand. “You could, I don’t know, study them? Get to know everyone in advance of them waking up.”

Aziraphale considered that and smiled. “What a lovely thought. I’ve visited them, but I don’t know much _about_ them at all.”

Crowley shrugged. “Could be interesting.”

Aziraphale pulled him into an embrace. “I’m certainly very happy to be here with you.”

“Likewise,” Crowley said. 

“Are you … missing it at all?”

Crowley shrugged. “Yeah, but not really in a nostalgic way, I wouldn’t say. I think we made the right call.”

“Good,” Aziraphale said, kissing him.

“Now, as for the reason I came to find you,” Crowley said, taking his hands. “Any chance I could whisk you away from your books for a moment?”

Aziraphale nodded, curious, and followed Crowley up to the garden. There, under the stars, a picnic was laid out and waiting for them. 

“Oh, Crowley! It’s been a while, hasn’t it.”

They took their places on the blanket and shared a lovely meal, surrounded by Crowley’s many happy plants. 

When they’d finished, Aziraphale had just set down his empty wine glass when Crowley stood up and held out his hand. Aziraphale accepted and stood alongside him, curious.

First, the trees around them began to glow with string lights. 

“Crowley, how beautiful,” Aziraphale remarked.

And then, with a subtle swell, lovely music began to play, from some sound system Aziraphale couldn’t spot. Crowley pulled him into his arms, swaying to the melody.

“What’s this, then?” Aziraphale asked, laughing as he danced. 

“I thought I’d give you some spontaneity,” Crowley said casually, and Aziraphale’s heart did a little flip. 

“Well,” he said, slipping his arm more snugly around his husband’s waist, “that’s very kind of you, my dear. Thank you.” 

Crowley just smiled. 

After the piece ended, Crowley was clearly ready to continue dancing, but Aziraphale had another idea. He pulled him into a passionate kiss and didn’t let up even as the second tune started to play. 

Shortly, they were making love there in the grass, and Aziraphale was newly happy to be totally alone.

**~**

Roughly a decade later, they’d stand in that very same spot again, gazing out at a new world and relishing their last few minutes of peace before the ship’s wake-up procedures began. 

And when they did, they’d go off without a hitch. The passengers came into the grand hallways, looking around in awe, discovering the library and the gardens and the dining concourse and the residence halls they’d call home for a few months in orbit before settling on Homestead II. 

Aziraphale and Crowley successfully integrated, taking on the roles of two more passengers and echoing their excitement and amazement at the successful journey. As the humans discussed the trip, it became apparent that the passengers had experienced a surprising phenomenon: Every single person on board had enjoyed the most wonderful dreams they could ever recall during the hibernation. Doctors were baffled; it should have been a dreamless sedation. But they, too, recalled exceptionally pleasant dreams.

The consensus seemed to be that the dreams were a gift of some sort, or a sign of good tidings. A reassurance that they were on the right path. A good omen.

///

**_Present Day_ **

“Why is it important to you?” Crowley asks as they’re lounging in their den after supper. “That they carry on the legend of the angels?”

“Because it’s _true_. And, well, it’s part of their history, now. Although it manifested in ways we never intended, their ancestors' lives were irrevocably affected by our presence.”

Crowley nods and hums, stroking his arm. 

“Also,” Aziraphale goes on, “I like the idea that they’ll remember us. If we ever decide to return.”

At that, Crowley shifts to look at him. “Is that what you want? To go back to Earth?”

“Well, not anytime soon,” Aziraphale says with a shrug. “But someday, perhaps. I’m open to it.”

The remains of the Avalon are still in orbit; it wouldn’t take too many miracles to pull together something resembling a ship. And they’d need no fuel. The option is there. 

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asks when Crowley doesn’t respond. “Would you ever want to go back?”

“Someday, perhaps,” he says, somewhat reluctantly. “After a few more generations here. When we feel like they’re ready.”

Aziraphale can’t fight his smile. Crowley has been so happy here, working alongside the botanists, farmers, and chefs, existing in a world that has never known him as anything other than a compassionate, generous person. Perhaps it’s no wonder he’d want to stay.

“Completely hypothetical at this point,” Aziraphale says, pulling him into a lazy kiss. “I do love living here. I love that _we_ live here.”

“Me too, angel,” his sweet husband replies. “Me too.”

///


End file.
